Why the Holidays Feel So Hard: Understanding Antagonistic Family Dynamics

There’s a certain shimmer to the holiday season — twinkling lights, warm foods, communal rituals, the soft ache of memory. In a perfect world, holidays would be a gentle return to belonging. They would be an invitation back into our bodies, our cultures, our stories, and the people who hold them.

But for many of us — especially queer and trans people, polyamorous systems, trauma survivors, those with dissociative parts, and anyone who learned to be the emotional adult long before they should have — the holidays don’t feel like an invitation. They feel like a summons.

We find ourselves bracing days or weeks beforehand. We rehearse small talk so we won’t be caught off guard. We tell ourselves, “It’ll be okay this year,” while some quiet part of our nervous system whispers, “Be careful.”

If that’s you, you’re not alone. Truly.

I’m right here with you.And there’s nothing wrong with you for feeling this way.

The Myth of Going “Home”

We’re taught that “home” is where we are safe — where we are known, welcomed, and loved. But many of us learned growing up that home was a place where we had to shape-shift to survive. Maybe you remember being the one who smoothed things over. Maybe you were the one who stayed quiet, who cleaned up the emotional messes, who pretended nothing was wrong. Or maybe you were the one blamed for everything — the “too much” one, the emotional one, the child who refused to fall in line.

In All About Love, bell hooks wrote,

“Abuse and neglect negate love.”

So many of us were told that family love is unconditional, that blood is thicker than water. Yet the love we experienced at home often came with fine print. There were expectations, hierarchies, and unspoken rules: don’t make a scene, don’t tell the truth too loudly, don’t disrupt what keeps everyone comfortable — even if it hurts you.

And then the holidays arrive.The rituals and rhythms may look the same, but you are not.

You walk through the front door and — hand on the doorknob — you feel the familiar pull. Your body contracts, your breath shortens, and before you know it, you’ve slipped into a younger self. You might laugh at jokes you don’t find funny. You stay silent when someone says something cruel. You hold your tongue because you know speaking up will cost you.

This is not a personal failure.It is survival wisdom.

Your younger self learned what was safe.Your grown self is trying to remember something different.

Why the Holidays Hurt

Even without overt conflict, the holidays can bring a familiar pressure. There are expectations about how you show up, what you talk about, who you’re supposed to be. Some of us spend the holiday season feeling like we’re walking through emotional fog. We’re not necessarily in danger — but we’re not at ease, either.

The tension comes from being asked to step back into relationships and roles that no longer fit. bell hooks reminds us that “the practice of love is the most powerful antidote to the politics of domination.” Yet many families were built on domination — on controlling narratives, silencing dissent, or maintaining the appearance of harmony at the expense of truth.

We return to these systems hoping something will be different — that our family will see our growth, honor our identity, respect our choices. Sometimes they do. And sometimes they don’t.

The pain lies in the gap.

What Does “Antagonistic” Even Mean?

When I talk about an “antagonistic” family member, I’m not naming a fixed identity — I’m describing a relational pattern. Antagonism often shows up as chronic criticism, subtle sarcasm, dismissal of your needs or boundaries, guilt-tripping, emotional chaos, or the expectation that you will participate in your own erasure for the sake of “keeping the peace.”

Some family members do this consciously. Others have no idea they’re doing harm; it’s simply what they learned, normalized through generations.

Nedra Glover Tawwab writes in Set Boundaries, Find Peace:

“You teach people how to treat you by what you allow, what you stop, and what you reinforce.”

The trouble is: as children, we didn’t have the power to stop or renegotiate what was allowed. Our nervous systems were built in relation to others who may not have been able to love us well. The patterns we carry into adulthood began as necessary adaptations.

This is part of why we continue to struggle around antagonistic family members — not because we lack strength, but because the original wounds were laid down before we had language for them.

The Nervous System Remembers

You can do years of therapy, EMDR, somatic work, internal family systems, integration with parts — and something about stepping into your childhood home still makes your chest tighten.

This doesn’t mean you haven’t healed.It means your body remembers.

Gregory Bateson, in his writing on systems, suggests that relationships are not static; they are patterns of communication that shape and reshape us. We are shaped inside the system — and the system shapes itself around us. Even when we leave, the neural map remains.

In practice:You may be the grounded adult Monday through Friday.But the moment you hear your mother’s tone, a younger part steps forward: the compliant one, the appeasing one, the defiant one, the quiet one.

These parts are brilliant. They kept you alive — emotionally, physically, psychologically. They learned how to prevent explosions, avoid shame, minimize conflict, or disappear to survive.

Tending to these parts with tenderness is not regression.It is repair.

Our nervous systems do not care about the calendar.They care about safety.

If your body gets dysregulated around family, that is information — not indictment.

The Shame Spiral

When we struggle at family gatherings, many of us turn inward with self-blame.

“Why am I still like this?”“Everyone else just deals with it.”“Maybe I’m overreacting.”“I should be grateful.”

Shame tells us that our discomfort is evidence of failure.But what if your discomfort is actually evidence of clarity?

To name harm is not disloyalty.It is maturity.It is love — of self.

bell hooks reminds us that love and abuse cannot coexist.It is not a betrayal to notice that some people are unable or unwilling to love you without conditions.It is a returning to truth.

Cultural and Generational Pressures

In many families, loyalty is treated as the ultimate virtue. We hear:“Family first.”“You only get one mother.”“Let it go — it’s the holidays.”

But loyalty without safety is not devotion.It is survival.

We forget that loyalty is earned — not mandated.Belonging must be mutual.Connection must be chosen.

Systems theorist Gregory Bateson would say that in rigid systems, patterns continue until a disturbance interrupts them. When you begin healing — when you begin naming what happened, when you set boundaries or take space — you become that disturbance. The system may resist, not because you are wrong, but because it is trying to maintain equilibrium.

Your healing is the interruption.Your clarity is the turning point.

And yes — that can be destabilizing for others.

The Holidays as a Time Machine

There’s something about family gatherings that pulls us back into old identities. Even if we’ve done monumental internal work, stepping into familiar physical, relational, or even geographic space can evoke younger parts instantly.

It’s not that you’re “regressing.”It’s that you’re encountering a remembered environment.

Your mother sighs and suddenly your throat closes.Your father asks a pointed question and a part of you freezes.Your sibling jokes about your polyamory, your gender, your body — and you smile through the sting, because you learned long ago that protest is dangerous.

Your body remembers what your mind had tried to transform.

It’s okay that you still feel it.

Healing doesn’t mean the old pain disappears.Healing means you recognize the pattern sooner, act with more agency, and recover more quickly.

Your body is not betraying you —it’s protecting you.

You Don’t Need Permission to Protect Yourself

Many of us were raised to believe that boundaries were rude, selfish, or disrespectful. But boundaries are not punishment. They are clarity. They are love. As Tawwab reminds us, boundary-setting is a relational skill: protecting your well-being while staying honest about what you can and cannot tolerate.

You are allowed to decide what conversations you participate in.You are allowed to decline to attend.You are allowed to leave early.You are allowed to tell the truth about your capacity.

Your boundary is already valid because it belongs to you.

When others respond with anger, guilt, silence, or punishment, that doesn’t mean your boundary was wrong.It simply reveals why it was necessary.

Listening to Your Body

As the holidays approach, spend a moment listening inward.

When you imagine being with family, what sensations arise?Does your chest expand or contract?Do you feel curious — or numb?Tense — or grounded?

Our bodies tell the truth before our minds can catch up.

The nervous system is wise.It remembers what we survived.It also knows what we need to feel safe now.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to feel safe.

Reflection

As you enter this season, consider gently:

• What parts of me feel unsafe with family?

• What role do I fall into there?

• What identities or truths do I soften or hide?

• What would support look like?

• Who in my life feels like safety now?

These reflections are the beginning of liberation.

You Belong to Yourself First

If the holidays feel heavy or grief-laden, know that you’re not failing.You are responding truthfully to the reality of your story.

You do not owe your family the version of you that disappears.You do not owe your ancestors the continuation of patterns that harmed you.You do not owe anyone access to your body, your time, or your heart.

bell hooks wrote that love is “a combination of care, commitment, knowledge, responsibility, respect, and trust.”If people cannot meet you there, it is okay to love them from a distance.It is okay to love them in memory.It is okay not to love them at all.

You are allowed to belong to yourself first.

Next in this series, we’ll explore how to begin naming antagonistic dynamics with clarity — not to diagnose or judge, but to give yourself the grounding you need to navigate them without losing yourself.

For now, take a breath.You’re held.You’re seen.You’re allowed to take up space.

I’m so proud of you.